Blearily blinking away evidence of last night's slumber, Ireland sluggishly sat upright and stretched each limb, a concealed yawn escaping from his mouth. At that moment, the mysterious old man that frequented his side appeared amidst a small cloud of smoke, a grin evident underneath his thick beard.
"Good morning Eíre and happy birthday to you! Lá breithe shona duit!"
Startled, the country let out a shrill shriek and fell into a crumpled heap on the cold floor from his hotel bed, though he quickly recovered and sprang to his feet.
"Hah! You scared me old man! Thank you for the wishes friend, they are most appreciated" Cathal sheepishly ran a hand through his messy auburn locks, his cheeks tinted crimson with embarrassment at his reaction. Despite the execution, the man did sincerely mean it when he stated he appreciated the spirit's birthday greeting, even if birthday's to Cathal merely marked a date on a calendar.
"Right well I'd better get ready for the day ahead, I reckon it'll be an eventful one for sure" the Irishman remarked sarcastically, rolling his hazel coloured eyes whilst trodding in the direction of the bathroom, the sound of the shower running filling the atomostphere.
Exiting his hotel room, Cathal triple checked his bag's contents while also taking care to ensure he locked the door and placed the key card to said room in a zipped pocket in his bag. Once he was satisfied, the country proceeded to take the elevator down to the breakfast room, his stomach begging for sustenance as the smell of the breakfast buffet infiltrated his nostrils as soon as the elevator doors slid ajar. The room was bustling with people, almost all clad in some article of green clothing, so Ireland chose a tiny table at the back of the room next to a window overlooking a picturesque view of a immersive New York street as the city prepared for its annual St. Patrick's Day parade. The man hummed to himself contentedly as he promptly plopped down his coat onto his seat so that passerbys knew the table was occupied, making his way to the back of the queue for the buffet. Just then, Ireland felt a gentle but prominent nudge at the back of his right leg. Turning around, the man was greeted by the sight of an adorable baby wearing a Leprechaun costume, his apologetic mother close behind.
"I'm so sorry sir, since he's learnt how to walk he's hell bent on running me ragged!" The woman laughed nervously, swiftly scooping the boy up into her arms and positioning him so that he sat on her hip, the child pouting at being restricted from running around.
"Oh there's no need to apologise! The wee lad looks adorable in his costume, happy St. Patrick's day to you." Cathal smiled brightly at the pair, pulling to tongues towards the child which caused a fit of giggles.
"Ah, is that an Irish accent you have? I'm guessing you're here to see how we celebrate in the states here? I love Patty's day, my great grandfather was a Limerick man." The woman's shoulders visibly relaxed, sensing Cathal would make no complaint about her child accidentally bumping into him.
"Ah yes, born and raised! Limerick I see, how interesting. I hope you have a lovely day with you wee one." Ireland couldn't help but let out a small chortle at the phrase 'patty's day', since it was something he and Alfred had quarrelled about in past years and his conversation with woman awoke that memory, excusing himself to retrieve a cup for the coffee machine.
The meeting itself was nothing short of chaotic. The meeting opened with Germany barking orders at everyone, France picking yet another fight with Arthur, Alfred screaming down the microphone at the centre of the room about a new project that should absolutely take priority. But it didn't stop there. Alfred decided to make an embarrassing announcement to the whole auditorium that it was Cathal's birthday and recommended that all attendees should check out the parade and sample a Guinness in 'true Irish fashion'. At that point in time, Cathal wished that the ground had opened beneath him and swallowed him up. Thankfully, Canada stepped in when America tried to get the room to sing happy birthday, furthering the painful awkwardness Ireland was subject to. After the meeting closed and an agenda was distributed for tomorrow's meeting and Cathal was considering taking an aspirin and laying down in a dark room, the man came to a halt in the hallway. What had attracted his attention, resulting in him coming to a screeching stop, was a perfectly placed present in the centre of the hallway. Swivelling his head around in all directions, there was no one in immediate vicinity and Cathal hadn't spotted anyone leaving a gift on the ground. Curiosity piqued, the man warily obtained the package and examined the label attached to the sparkling emerald ribbon wrapped around the box.
'Dear Cathal, happy birthday' was all the card read. Intrigued, Ireland tore the shiny gold wrapping and prised open the flaps of the box to reveal, nestled amongst multicoloured packing peanuts, a necklace with a delicate, golden Celtic love knot pendant dangling from it. It was a beautiful piece of jewellery and Cathal instantaneously put it on, the pendant resting in the centre of his chest. The country practically dissected the gift box for any sort of clue as to who would anonymously leave him such a heartfelt, thoughtful present; but there was nothing. Whoever had planted this birthday gift had been methodically in ensuring it couldn't be traced back to them. The Irishman stood, the remains of the gift box under one arm while his free hand tenderly stroked the Celtic love knot.
"Uncle!" Ireland, before he could even properly pull himself from the depths of his deep thinking, was ambushed with an embrace from behind by none other than America, with Canada trailing behind him.
"Al!" Matthew pulled Alfred off Cathal's back, his brow furrowed in annoyance.
"Good to see you boys!" Ireland swiftly aimed a gentle jab at America's abdomen, then moving to ruffle Matthew's hair.
"Oh, what's that?" The Canadian tilted his head to one side, catching a glimpse of the unwrapped present tucked under Ireland's arm.
"A gift someone left for me...in the middle of the hallway of all places. No clue as to who it's from though, there was no name on the tag." Ireland gestured to the necklace that now hung around his neck, using a finger to lift the love knot so the pair could get a proper look at it.
"Perhaps a secret admirer? Guess it's that lucky charm of yours, am I right?" America burst out laughing, slapping Ireland enthusiastically on the back.
"Hah! For that cheap joke I'll let you buy me a drink!" Ireland remarked, winking to Canada.
Silently observing the three men walk briskly down the hallway, Cian hid behind a pillar with his hand placed atop his rapidly beating heart. He'd done it. He'd managed to give Cathal his gift without the latter knowing it was actually himself behind the carefully curated operation. Usually, he'd sent Cathal a bottle of whiskey; knowing that alcohol certainky wouldn't go to waste. Alternatively, he'd sometimes sent an online voucher for his favourite book store. However, for whatever reason that possessed him, Cian wanted to bestow something with more thought behind it to the country but given the pair's strained relationship, the ginger fretted over the gesture and how it would be both perceived and received. Northern Ireland drew a deep breath, peeling himself from the comfort of the pillar and jogging in the opposite direction to catch up with his brothers, all of whom awaited his arrival outside.
"Come on Cian! You were bloody ages you were!" Wales scolded, his cheeks puffed out in agitation.
"Heh sorry! There was just something I needed to do" Northern Ireland apologised profusely, planting his hands behind his head.
"Well, so long as that outstanding business is taken care of, we can get going now." Arthur led the group in the direction of a nearby taxi rank.
"Just what was it you needed to do?" Medwyn quizzed nosily, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, it was just a personal matter, nothing serious" at Cian's response to his question, Medwyn sensed he would not delve into further detail and dropped the topic, much to Cian's relief. The young man felt as though a weight had been freed from his grasp now that Cathal had his gift from him, choosing to occupy his focus on preventing Arthur and Alistair from starting a physical altercation in the middle of the street over restaurant options.